Masking the Tiger's Fangs
by Madam Facilier
Summary: A widow's son. A grandson of a retired warlord. An inheritor of the Blessing of Prosperity. That was all that Dobengal would ever be if he stayed in Peony Village. So when tales of Saber Tooth's prestige reaches his home in the windy valley, he pounced, unaware of the cage that lay in wait for him.


**Happy New Year, everybody! In case you're wondering about my other works, I'm in the middle of a writer's block. (Screams in agony) Yet somehow, I was able to plan a backstory for the resident ninja of Saber Tooth. I'm hoping that by putting this out here, my creative flow will return to me and allow me to return to my other works. I originally meant for this to connect to my other Fairy Tail works on FFN, but this can also be read as a headcanon backstory.**

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An elderly man clad in a black kimono sat before an irori, where a kettle hung over a flame. His eyes never left the glowing embers within the hearth.

A knock sounded and the man called without looking up, "Enter."

The door before him slid open, revealing a young man who made no move to enter. "Father," he greeted, "Jiemma Orland has arrived."

The name made the patriarch look up abruptly. "Jiemma? What on Earth Land has that man come for?" he asked.

"He said he wishes to speak to you. Are you going to receive him?" The young man asked with a tone that failed to hide his desire for the opposite.

The older man sighed at the contempt in his son's voice. "Izana, no matter how detestable he may seem to you, he still came all this way. Courtesy dictates I must hear him out."

"…As you wish, father," Izana reluctantly accepted before he called to somebody outside, "Send him in, Sen." Izana finally entered the room and joined his father at the hearth, sitting off to the side with one leg crossed under him.

The elder man stood to remove the kettle from where it hung over the hearth to rest it on a cushion before sifting the embers with a slender shovel within his reach. Shortly after, a shadowy figure appeared and crossed the doorway.

"Jiemma," the elder man greeted while his son regarded the newcomer with a scowl. "What brings you here today?"

As Jiemma took his seat, shadows receded to reveal him as old as the patriarch sitting opposite of him. "Lord Osorezan," he said, "my condolences for the loss of your son-in-law."

Izana made a sound as if he had tried to hide a derisive huff with a cough, causing his father to give him a stern look. "It's a somber occasion for us…and my daughter," the patriarch conceded as the flames within the irori slowly flickered.

"It must be especially so for the life she bears now."

It was Izana's turn to glance at Jiemma sharply while Lord Osorezan regarded him with raised eyebrows. "So you've heard. How astute of you, Jiemma."

"I was her betrothed," Jiemma reminded gruffly. "How would I ever ignore what became of her after she married the merchant?"

"It's almost touching how much you care for my older sister even after the betrothal was called off, Jiemma," Izana remarked. "Even as she carries the child of the merchant who won her heart."

Jiemma showed no visible reaction to the last comment, though the air became suspiciously chill even with the flames in the hearth providing warmth. "Be that as it may, her child is now without a father to receive guidance from," he advised. "So I give you this, Lord Osorezan. When the mourning period is over, allow me to marry your daughter once more."

"Now you've gone too far, Orland!" Izana rose to his feet while his father glared Jiemma with a disapproving anger in his eyes.

"How _dare_ you?" Lord Osorezan rebuked. His voice never rose in volume like his son's but his outrage made itself known through his tone. "Izayoi is a _widow_. Her husband only just passed away and you come into my home with the audacity to ask to reclaim her hand. Have you no _shame_?"

Even in the face of the patriarch's and his heir's anger, Jiemma never yielded. "Izayoi may now be the merchant's widow and she may be carrying the merchant's child." The man raised his eyes to meet the ones of the man who stood across the hearth from him, refusing to lower his gaze and submit to the patriarch. "But I am the one Madam Osorezan originally chose for Izayoi. I can provide a life for her and for her fatherless child. Would you deny the chance to return everything to its rightful place?"

Lord Osorezan reached for the shaft of the shovel buried within the burning embers and hurled it across the hearth as he stood on his feet in fury. The heat of the embers barely touched skin but the shovel blade seared its mark between Jiemma's eyebrows. The shovel clattered against the floor as Jiemma cursed in pain, holding his bleeding brow.

"Father!"

Lord Osorezan gave no acknowledgement to Izana, instead training his eyes solely on the man who dared to look up to him through a bloodied hand. "So you would marry Izayoi even knowing her child belongs to the merchant who married her in your stead. Then what? Would you truly treat Aomori's child as your own? Or would you condemn Izayoi to raise your daughter as one of mine?"

Izana looked up sharply at this information. Jiemma grit his teeth, ignoring the pain from his wound. "H-how…? When did you—?"

"You are not the only one who spent these years perched at the door," Lord Osorezan admonished. "My wife may have chosen you as the descendant of the Yakuma, but your bloodline will never inherit the Blessing of Prosperity."

"So…you choose the scion of a lowly merchant over the Yakuma Clan?" Jiemma spat.

"Let me make one thing clear." Lord Osorezan raised a finger at Jiemma. At once, the man bellowed as a burning sensation flared to life from his wound. "Merchant or peasant, the child in Izayoi's womb—the child of_ Kodai Aomori_ is my heir—_and_ my grandson!"


End file.
